


Writing Days

by missbeizy



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-19
Updated: 2013-12-19
Packaged: 2018-01-05 03:46:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1089243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbeizy/pseuds/missbeizy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fluffy/sweet domestic porn.  :D</p>
            </blockquote>





	Writing Days

**Author's Note:**

>  
> 
> **12/19/2013 ******  
> 

There is an exact science to living with Chris on writing days.

In the beginning Will had tried to explain it to Ashley, to Alla, to his mom, to anyone willing to listen to his crackpot theories, "It's sort of like popcorn," which naturally got their attention, and then he would add, "It's about knowing exactly how many seconds between pops you need to wait for before you hit the stop button." Inevitably this would lead to his conversation partner staring at him like a crazy person and asking, "Is this a sex thing, because..." and he'd laugh and say, "No. Keyboard strokes. It's a rhythm. I can tell exactly when he's frustrated, or close to finishing either a chapter or for the day, or when he's just thinking—it's all about the keystrokes."

And Ashley had said, "So this is totally a sex thing."

And Alla had said, "Writers are weird and awesome—love you guys."

And his mom had said, "Honey, I think you need to get some air. Plenty of air out there in the Hollywood Hills.”

Today he's writing, too, so it's different. Together they form a harmony of keystrokes at opposite ends of the second floor of the house. Brian bounces back and forth between them for affection and treats, but ends up with Will in the evening as he so often does. Papa has become his favorite at night, though he favors Chris during the daylight hours.

Will does stick his head in every now and then, but half of the time Chris ignores him, and that's okay. He's used to it. He knows what it feels like to be in the zone. He also knows what it feels like to want to reach into the computer screen and strangle your own characters, so he's never surprised by Chris' occasional bout of shouting and cursing at the screen. It's the best when they are both struggling together, because Chris gets it.

"They just won't do the thing," he'll growl at Chris as he passes through to claim a kiss on the cheek or bring Chris a cup of tea that inevitably goes cold at his elbow.

"I know," Chris will breathe out of the side of his mouth, not looking away from his computer. "I fucking hate that."

"I had a thought in the bathroom and by the time I sat back down it was gone. It's been driving me nuts.”

"All of the best stuff happens in the bathroom, don't ask me why," Chris says, eyes flickering over his notes. "Bring the laptop with you."

Will stares. "Gross. Also genius, but I'd probably end up breaking it."

"I'm a klutz. If I can do it, you can."

He has a point.

They have exchanges like this throughout the day, and by five o'clock Will is completely tapped out. He perks an ear toward Chris' office. No keystrokes. He glances in, sees Chris leaning back in his leather chair with a stress ball in his right hand. He doesn't know why, but he just knows that Chris would refuse dinner, so he doesn't offer.

He eats a bowl of cereal. He reads a chapter of a book that he's been working through. He shoots off a picture or two of the new garden to his older sister.

And he listens.

_Tap, tap, tap._

Damn. Still at it.

Of course, there's always plan B. Plan B is not called plan B because it comes after plan A but rather because it is short for _Plan Brian_ , which involves lap invasion and determined rubbing and licking until Chris forgets the stress of world building and plot twists and lets Will take his mind and body elsewhere. It is perhaps a little strange that this all stems from _their cat baby_ but, hey, Will takes inspiration wherever he can get it.

He walks past the office again, slips inside on soft feet and slides his hands gently over Chris' tense shoulders. Chris exhales and slumps back into him, which means that plan B is a go for launch, at the very least.

He digs his fingers in and begins rubbing, warmth rushing his skin and a smile stretching his lips. "How's it going, love?" he asks.

"I think it's gone?" Chris answers, eyelids fluttering behind his glasses. "Four chapters today. Not bad."

"You are on fire," he says, pressing his thumbs between Chris' shoulder blades. He earns a groan, considers that more than enough of a response to justify engaging phase two, and lowers himself sideways across Chris' lap.

The moment that Chris is physically separated from his laptop he seems to come back to reality, one hand falling to Will's back and the other sweeping the eyeglasses from his face.

"Sorry, we didn't eat dinner, did we?" he asks, sounding a little far away.

Will doesn't mention the cereal. "Hungry? I can order something."

"In a bit," Chris says, stroking Will's back. "Mm. No headache today, at least."

Will kisses the side of his face. "That's good." See, the problem is, one kiss is really never enough. So he takes another, and another, until his mouth is at the spot where Chris' neck and shoulder meet, and Chris' arms are loosely hooked around his waist.

He can hear the smile when Chris says, "Your timing is beginning to freak me out."

Will kisses his collarbone, flushed and grinning, and then slides fully over his lap, straddling straight on instead of sideways and snugging their laps together. "Why is that?"

"It's like you can tell exactly the moment when my brain switches tracks," Chris answers, eyelids dipping as Will's fingers thread through his hair.

"It's mostly selfish." He thumbs Chris' nipples through his t-shirt, breathing faster as he feels them tighten.

"Bullshit." They both know that Will doesn't have a selfish bone in his body.

By the time Will gets his fingers to the edge of Chris' pajama bottoms, he's half-hard in his own and squirming just a little. It's been a long day and writing had sort of gotten him going and let's face it, living with a man like Chris he is rarely ever turned completely off.

"I just really," he says, tugging the waistband of Chris' pants down, "really want you in my mouth." His knees twinge as he slides off of the chair and down to the rug, but it's worth it for the look of pleasantly surprised arousal on Chris' face. The way that his cheeks go red and his chest starts to hitch and his mouth curls into a grin that he can't control—it's like magic, being able to do that to him, and Will savors every second.

As he gently works Chris fully hard in his hand, Chris breathes out, "Remember that one time you—you came in here and just—did it, without asking me to stop?"

Will laughs, leans in and buries his face in Chris' pubic hair and inhales. "You wrote half a chapter with your dick in my throat."

There's a pause, Chris' breathing loud in the otherwise silent room, and then the reply, "Good fucking chapter, too."

Will laughs even harder, feeling relaxed and aroused on his knees between Chris' legs.

He loves this—he loves that they can giggle through blowjobs and talk through fucking and fuck through talking. He loves how easy it is just to be with Chris, to be _himself_ with Chris, and god, he loves Chris' body under his hands.

It's the last smart thing he thinks before he slides his mouth down around Chris' flushed, pink cock. After almost two years it's still as enjoyable as it had been in the beginning, Chris' fingers in his hair, on his neck and shoulders, Chris' pelvis going slowly lax as he gives in to the pleasure, then gradually tense again as the pleasure winds him up in a completely different way.

"Will," he breathes, overwhelmed, as Will's head begins bobbing in his lap. He tastes like cotton and skin and Will laps the flavor back hungrily, breathing through his nose. "Shit. Oh, god, yeah."

It only takes a few minutes—no point in lasting when it's like this—and when he's close Chris whimpers a few times, high-pitched and desperate, and his pelvis goes twitchy in his chair and he begins pushing deeper into Will's mouth, fingers scrabbling as Will hums eagerly around him. Will puts his fingers around the base of Chris' cock and squeezes, thinking, _come on, baby_.

"Gonna come," Chris hisses, back arching, belly heaving, the sharp line of his jaw working, back lit by the light from the hallway as his head falls back in pleasure. Will watches his wide, soft mouth tremble and his forehead wrinkle up and his tongue dart out across his bottom lip.

_God, yes_ , Will thinks, as he is rewarded with a mouthful of salty release. He loves the taste, but more than that he loves the way it feels, Chris pulsing and spurting inside of his mouth. He loves feeling the pleasure make Chris boneless, loves that they don't even need to talk much anymore. This is just—them.

After, he puts his cheek on Chris' leg and breathes, just breathes, for a minute or two. His calves are twinging and he is actually still starving, though, and he knows that Chris is going to want to either get up and eat dinner or keep working after that, so he sits back on his heels.

Chris gently tugs him in by his shoulders and kisses him. "Love you," he says, bumping their noses together.

Will's chest floods with wave after wave of adoration. "Love you, too," he answers.

"And after I get me some Chinese, I'm going to show you just how much," Chris says, leading him from the room by the drawstring of his sweatpants.

Writing days are often the best days.


End file.
